


The Gift of Bast

by Yen



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding, Cousin Incest, Endgame Erik Killmonger/T'Challa, Fucked until pregnant, Gangbang, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega T'Challa (Marvel), Pain, Public Sex, Public Use, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-01-13 03:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18460541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yen/pseuds/Yen
Summary: Omegas were extremely rare, so rare that only a handful of people presented as omegas every decade. Omega men were even rarer. A new omega was a cause for great joy, a nationwide celebration where the omega would be lavished with praise and attention and celebrated for their beauty and fertility. A true gift from Bast.Of course, such a wonderful gift ought to besharedwith the rest of Wakanda.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This ABO universe only contains regular humans (majority) and omegas (very small minority).
> 
> (Spoiler: T'Challa gets gangbanged by multiple men, but he'll end up together with Erik.)

 

T'Challa noticed that he seemed to be getting a lot more attention lately.

He had always been sought after because of his looks and his status as Crown Prince. People would frequently give him stares and ogle his ass when they thought he wasn't looking, but there had been a noticeable uptick in the duration and frequency of these lingering stares in the past week. More people than ever before had found excuses to brush against him in the corridors, to follow closely enough behind him that they could peek up the hem of his short robe as he walked up the stairs.

At the beginning, T'Challa took all of this in stride and good grace. This treatment wasn't out of the ordinary for a hot unmarried man. But although it was very flattering, the attention was starting to get a bit too overwhelming, even for him. His ass was even starting to bruise from the repeated pinches and slaps over the course of the last week.  

The final straw was the incident with his cousin N'Jadaka when they were sparring together that the morning.

“What are you doing?” T'Challa demanded, when it became clear that N'Jadaka was holding him down much, _much_ longer than was strictly necessary.

T'Challa, pinned down flat onto his stomach, shifted to try to throw N'Jadaka off, but all he could manage was an ineffectual little wriggle. The motion just caused his ass to grind against the front of N’Jadaka’s pants, and T'Challa suddenly became acutely aware of the thick, hard length of N'Jadaka's erect cock rubbing against the cheeks of his ass.

T'Challa's heart rate sped up, his eyes widening in shock.

Maybe it was just an involuntary physical reaction on N'Jadaka's part?

But then N'Jadaka thrust his hips forward, making his intentions unmistakably clear.

“I - N'Jadaka!” T'Challa protested, flushing with embarrassment.

He had always known about N'Jadaka's interest in him, but N'Jadaka had never expressed it quite so vulgarly before. T'Challa was well aware that he would never be permitted to marry N'Jadaka, the son of a disgraced prince and a foreigner, and so he had never encouraged N'Jadaka in his affections out of fear of hurting N'Jadaka's feelings and pissing off his parents.

Panic and adrenaline spiked within T'Challa, and he somehow found a burst of energy within himself and managed to squirm free. He flipped over onto his back, staring up at N'Jadaka with wide eyes.

N'Jadaka grinned back down at him impishly, completely unrepentant. The devilish smirk on his face as he met T'Challa's eyes made  T'Challa's heart skip a beat.

“You've been looking real good lately,” N'Jadaka purred. He leaned down and inhaled deeply at the base of T'Challa's neck. “And you _smell_ real good too. Delicious.”

T'Challa's felt his face growing hot with shame and undeniable arousal. Somehow, he found the strength to push N'Jadaka off him and scramble away.

“You can't run away forever!” N'Jadaka called out from behind him as T'Challa fled.

 

* * *

 

For the rest of the day, T'Challa couldn't keep his mind off N'Jadaka's unusual behaviour, the latest and most extreme escalation in a long string of similar incidents with friends and strangers alike.

“I don't know why everyone has been acting so strangely lately,” T'Challa said to his parents King T'Chaka and Queen Ramonda over dinner.

T'Chaka raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“They're - well, they all seem to be paying a lot more attention to me,” T'Challa confessed, hoping that he didn't sound too conceited.

Across the table, his sister Shuri snorted. T'Challa felt his face grow hot.

But his parents weren't laughing. “What do you mean?” T'Chaka asked.

T'Challa hesitated. “Um - they all seem more, uh, romantically interested in me. More so than usual.” _Sexually interested_ would be more accurate, but he'd rather die before he admitted that to his parents.

T'Chaka and Ramonda exchanged quick looks. Both of them then stared at him, intensely enough to make T'Challa feel extremely uncomfortable.

“There hasn't been one in the royal family for a hundred years,” T'Chaka murmured to Ramonda under his breath.

“It's not unheard of. And he's the right age,” Ramonda replied, just as quietly.

T'Challa was confused. What were they talking about?

Ramonda took a deep breath and turned to T'Challa. There was a look of barely concealed excitement on her face. “Darling, you're looking a little feverish right now. I'll ask our doctor to take a look at you after dinner.”

T'Challa blinked in surprise at her sudden change in topic. He rubbed experimentally at the side of his neck. His temperature did seem a little higher than usual.

He still didn't put the pieces together until it was too late.

 

* * *

 

“Congratulations!” The royal family's doctor announced with a beaming smile on her face. “Crown Prince T'Challa has presented as an omega!”

T'Challa's stomach dropped.

An _omega?_

Omegas were extremely rare, so rare that only a handful of people presented as omegas every decade. Omega men were even rarer. A new omega was a cause for great joy, a nationwide celebration where the omega would be lavished with praise and attention and celebrated for their beauty and fertility. A true gift from Bast.

Of course, such a wonderful gift ought to be _shared_ with the rest of Wakanda.

T'Challa blinked rapidly, trying to process the information. He knew that his life had just been completely upended, but somehow, in that moment, all he could focus on was how _cold_ his hands were. If he was going into heat, surely his hands ought to feel warmer? Why were his palms filled with cold sweat?

Oblivious to T'Challa's terror, Ramonda let out a gasp of delight. Even the normally stoic King T'Chaka smiled broadly as he placed a hand on T'Challa's shoulder. “Well done, T'Challa,” T'Chaka said, his voice resonating with pride.

The weight of T'Chaka’s hand on his shoulder felt as heavy as iron. T'Challa couldn't suppress a shiver as T'Chaka turned towards the doctor and asked, “When will he go into heat? We need to start preparing for the Ceremony immediately.”

“Based on the fluctuations in his body temperature, I expect that heat will begin in about three days,” the doctor said.

“Do I really have to do it?” T'Challa blurted out.

The thought of the impending Ceremony made his blood run cold. To be fucked relentlessly by person after person until he was successfully bred, and then mated off to whichever man had managed to successfully impregnate him during the rite… the mere idea of it made him feel sick with fear.

But that was how it had always been done when a Wakandan presented as an omega. It was only fair for Bast’s blessings to be shared, for everyone to have a chance to partake in her gift of a fertile omega. To even suggest otherwise would be blasphemy. T'Chaka frowned at his son, anger beginning to tinge his voice. “What are you trying to say, T'Challa?”

T'Challa tried again, his voice shaking, barely above a whisper. “We could - we could just skip the Ceremony? I'll marry whoever you choose for me, I swear it.”

His normally loving mother looked scandalized. “T'Challa, don't be so selfish!” Ramonda exclaimed. “How can you even think that? You have a duty to your country and your people. It wouldn't be fair of you to keep this gift all to yourself.”

“But what about Princess Asha?” T'Challa said in a small voice.

Princess Asha - his great-grandaunt, the only other person from the royal family who had presented as an omega within living memory. She had been fucked for two full days and nights during her Ceremony. Despite everyone's best efforts, she didn't catch. To everyone's disappointment, she had died, still barren and unbred, on the dawn of the third day.

“Oh, darling, is that all you're worried about?” Ramonda said, looking relieved. “Asha just wasn't strong enough to bear the fruits of Bast. Don't worry, my darling son. I have faith in you. You'll make us proud.”

At that moment, T'Challa knew that he was doomed.


	2. Chapter 2

Although T'Challa hoped that the doctor had made a mistake in her diagnosis, it soon became clear that he was undoubtedly an omega. 

As his hormone levels built in anticipation of his upcoming heat, T'Challa felt as if there was a constant buzzing warmth under his skin. It was driving him nuts with arousal and lust. 

His ass cheeks slid together wetly whenever he made the slightest motion to stand up or walk. That would have vaguely repulsed him at any other time, but now it just made him even more desperate to get a cock between his cheeks, inside his hole. But he had been placed into seclusion to prevent anyone from taking advantage of him before the Ceremony, and there wasn't even a guard or servant in his vicinity that he could seduce into fucking him. 

T'Challa wanted to scream in frustration, but all he did was muffle his whimpers into his pillow as he humped against his sheets, ruining them with slick and come. Now he understood why their house cats yowled so loudly when they were in heat. 

He had been dreading the Ceremony itself, but as the hours went by, the thought of being fucked by countless men and having to take countless cocks until he was bred suddenly didn't seem so bad, as his doubts and fears burned away with the coming of his heat. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he salivated in anticipation of being fucked until he saw stars. He  _ deserved _ it, damn it. He wanted it to happen  _ right now. _ How could everyone just leave him like this, alone and neglected and unloved, with no one to relieve him of his agony? It was just  _ unfair -  _

T'Challa's train of thought was interrupted by  a knock on his door. 

General Okoye, the commander of the Dora Milaje, entered. "It's time for the Ceremony," she informed him. 

_ Thank Bast. _ T'Challa practically leapt out of bed in his eagerness.

 

* * *

 

T'Challa, flanked by two rows of Dora Milaje, was led up the stairs to a raised marble platform in the centre of the palace courtyard. The platform was shaded by a soft silken canopy to block out the worst of the afternoon sun. But it was only dawn now, and the pink rays that filtered through the canopy were soft and gentle, casting a warm glow against his skin.  

The palace had been opened to visitors from the public for the duration of the Ceremony. There were throngs of men around the platform, lined up in neat rows as far as T'Challa's eyes could see. 

T'Challa had never seen so many people gathered in the palace grounds before. Even the normally reclusive Jabari Tribe had come down from their mountains for this. They were dressed in their traditional attire, shirtless with only body paint on and a loincloth tied loosely around their waists. Their leader, M’Baku, was a giant of a man who towered head and shoulders above most of the crowd. T'Challa couldn't help wondering how big his dick would be. The sight of all these people, here for  _ him, _ made T'Challa hot with excitement and lust. 

At the head of the crowd, the very first person in line, was his cousin N'Jadaka. 

N'Jadaka must have been been there all night and then fought his place to the head of the line. Hs looked that he had been through quite a few scuffles - his normally neat dreads were askew, and there was a deep scratch across one of his cheeks. But somehow the marks and bruises just made him look even more roguishly handsome than before. N'Jadaka flashed him an absolutely predatory smirk, a look which made T'Challa's knees go weak. Slick started to gather within him again in anticipation of the pounding that he was soon about to take. 

The attendants for the Ceremony guided T'Challa to the centre of the platform. Hands came towards him, removing pieces of his garments one by one - his accessories, his robes, and finally his pants. As each attire of clothing was removed, there were appreciative murmurs and catcalls from the audience. Soon T'Challa was stripped naked, bare and exposed before the entire country as heat burned under his skin. 

T'Challa was extremely aware of all the eyes on him. A part of him, buried deep, was screaming silently in mortification and horror at being so exposed to the entire country, and in such an embarrassingly wanton state. But right now his reason was overwhelmed by his new omega instincts, which were purring in delight at being the centre of attention. Attracting the attention of as many men as possible to breed him was the best way of ensuring strong healthy children. 

There was no hint of shyness in T'Challa as he allowed himself to be guided to bend over the breeding bench at the centre of the raised platform. Someone pushed his thighs, spreading them wide apart, and his legs and his wrists were secured to the the four legs of the bench with straps made of golden vibranium-silk weave. The straps felt soft and comfortable around his wrists and ankles, but T'Challa knew that the vibranium made them unbreakable by any efforts of human strength, preventing him from breaking free before the Ceremony was properly completed. 

Not that he had any intention of doing so, of course. He was already panting with desire, his hole feeling hot and empty as he spread his legs even further apart. The restraints had quite a lot of give in order to allow the men fucking him to position T'Challa however they liked - bent over, or on his back with legs spread wide. Right now T'Challa was bent over with his ass on display towards the audience, so that everyone could see just how wet and empty he was. 

With the preparations over, the attendants stepped back. The Dora Milaje stepped down too and formed a ring around the platform, their spears held at the ready. 

In the distance, the sound of drumming rose, a rhythmic thumping pound that filled T'Challa with excitement. 

"The Ceremony begins!" the head priest, Zuri, announced to the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Cheers and applause went up as N'Jadaka stepped up to the platform. 

The scent of an aroused omega hit him immediately. T'Challa had smelled  _ great _ back when they were sparring, but that scent had nothing on this _ - _ the scent of an omega in full heat, irresistibly alluring, overwhelming his senses. It was like nothing else in the world. The smell had his cock hardening in his pants at once. Very convenient. Though the sight of T'Challa spread out before him like a feast would have been enough to do that by itself.

T'Challa was completely bare except for the golden circlets of silken thread wound around his wrists and ankles beautifully contrasting against his dark skin. He was bent over at the waist, back arched and ass offered up towards him, just as firm and round as he'd always imagined. The sight of it sent another shock of spine-tingling lust through N'Jadaka. He couldn't wait to get his cock between those perfectly fuckable cheeks. 

T'Challa twisted his head to follow his motions as N'Jadaka stepped behind him, but was prevented from moving too much by the restraints around his wrists and ankles. He let out a small frustrated moan, twisting towards N'Jadaka.

"Shh, kitten, I'll give you what you need," N'Jadaka purred with a smirk. The knowledge that he would be the first one to get a taste of that perfect ass filled him with glee. Best of all, there was nothing that the rest of the royal family could do about it. 

N'Jadaka lined himself up behind T'Challa and took his pants down, completely unselfconscious even with all eyes on him. The knowledge that everyone else would have to watch him be the first to wreck their virginal Crown Prince's ass only served to make him more excited. 

T'Challa squirmed in his bonds, arching back towards N'Jadaka as if he couldn't wait to be fucked. N'Jadaka grinned. 

He didn't bother with prep - omegas were made to take cock, and T'Challa was already slick and wet, ready for fucking. Besides, N'Jadaka liked it tight, just on the edge between pain and pleasure. 

N'Jadaka grabbed and kneaded T'Challa's ass cheeks beneath his palms, enjoying the shudder that ran through the omega at the moment of first contact - the way the muscles in his back bunched and tightened, the way his thighs trembled as he spread his legs so N'Jadaka could slot his body between them. 

T'Challa's skin was almost unnaturally warm to the touch, and his skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that made his body glisten beautifully under the glow of the sun's rays. As N’Jadaka prised T'Challa's cheeks apart to expose his dusky pink hole, T'Challa arched back into his touch, eager and responsive. Encouraging breathy moans fell from T’Challa’s lips, as if to urge N'Jadaka to hurry up and fuck him properly.

N'Jadaka lined up the head of his cock with T'Challa's tight little hole. He stroked his hand up and down the shaft serval times, a couple of quick perfunctory yanks just to get himself harder. There was a pleasurable aching throb in his groin, need building in his veins as he paused and took a deep breath, luxuriating in the moment. 

Then he snapped his hips forward, sliding all the way in one hard thrust. 

T'Challa cried out, toes curling as he was abruptly stretched open and impaled on the entire considerable length of N'Jadaka's cock. His cry trailed off into a high-pitched keen of desperation as he squirmed against N'Jadaka's grip on his hips, grinding backwards as if to try to welcome even more if N'Jadaka into himself. 

The tight wet heat clenching down around N'Jadaka was so irresistible that he almost regretted having to withdraw so that he could thrust back in again. He pounded into T'Challa again with quick, brutal forward thrusts, opening up T'Challa further as he whimpered and squirmed beneath him. T'Challa gasped each time N'Jadaka pounded into him, hands grasping against the bar at the far end of the bench in a tight-knuckled grip. 

N'Jadaka gritted his teeth, trying not to come too quickly, which was a difficult feat given the blissful friction of T'Challa's inner was clenching around his cock with each thrust. He ran his hands over the smooth muscled expanse of T'Challa's back, exploring his body, while T'Challa shuddered at his light touches.

As N'Jadaka reached beneath T'Challa, taking his hard cock in hand and giving it a form stroke from shaft to tip, T'Challa suddenly stiffened under him, jerking as if an electric shock had just run through his body. His hole spasmed around N'Jadaka's cock, squeezing him rhythmically as if to milk it dry. Sticky wetness filled his palm in spurts, and extra slick gushed around N'Jadaka's cock from where he was joined with T'Challa. The musky, intense smell of omega come filled his nose. T'Challa had come for the first time.

A laugh bubbled up from deep within N'Jadaka's chest. He felt absurdly pleased with himself as T'Challa went limp beneath him, letting out a breathless, exhausted moan 

"You like that, kitten?" 

T'Challa sounded like he could barely choke the words out, his voice was so wrecked. "More," he gasped, even as his hole continued to milk N'Jadaka's cock through the aftershocks of his orgasm, clenching and unclenching around his entire shaft. N'Jadaka groaned at the feeling, tightening his grip on T'Challa's hips so he couldn't try to buck N'Jadaka off himself even if he was feeling oversensitive. 

But all T'Challa did was sigh in pleasure, going lax and loose-limbed beneath N'Jadaka. If anything, he seemed eager to get pounded again as he shifted his legs apart and whimpered. He swayed his hips attractively, as if to encourage N'Jadaka to get on with it again. 

It looked like omegas didn't have a refractory period, or perhaps they just had inhuman stamina. Either way, N'Jadaka was happy to oblige the insatiable omega. He began fucking hard into T'Challa again, the increased amount of slick and come within him easing the way, making each thrust forward a smooth, slippery glide into T'Challa's tight heat. T'Challa's whimpers quickly turned into choked-off little gasps under the force of N'Jadaka's thrusts, which were gradually becoming less controlled and more erratic. 

With a grunt and a final hard snap of his hips, N'Jadaka spilled his seed inside the omega, the first of many to come. T'Challa whimpered at the flood of hot come, trembling and then relaxing as his heat was temporarily sated. He let out a small sigh of pleasure before going limp under N'Jadaka's hands. 

N'Jadaka took a moment to collect himself, then leaned forward to press a kiss at the base of T'Challa's neck, making him shudder again. 

He inhaled deeply, taking in T'Challa's scent. 

It hadn't changed. 

T'Challa whined in frustration, the need within him still not fully sated. That first orgasm from N'Jadaka had only offered him a momentary reprieve, and his skin was starting to burn warm beneath N'Jadaka's hands again. His heat was still in progress and would only end after he had been successfully bred, whether by N'Jadaka or by any other man in attendance. 

It aggravated N'Jadaka, the knowledge that he would have to share T'Challa with everyone else. But N'Jadaka had expected that going in - he knew that it wasn't likely for him to get T'Challa pregnant on the first try. 

Not to worry. He'd get his turn again later. 

N'Jadaka swiped the pad of his thumb over T'Challa's leaking hole again, pressing in the sloppy mess of come and slick that was slowly dripping out. He was going to make it clear to the next guy up that  _ he _ had been here first, that he would be just getting N'Jadaka's sloppy seconds. 

N'Jadaka smirked as T'Challa gasped at the sensation, thighs shaking, and the way that T'Challa let out a needy, disappointed whine as he stepped away. T'Challa yanked futilely on his bonds, spreading his legs wider and canting his hips backwards towards N'Jadaka invitingly. 

The sight made N'Jadaka's mouth water, but he knew his turn was already up. Still, he couldn't resist giving T'Challa's round ass a slap before he left, drawing a startled, breathy gasp from the omega. T'Challa clenched down instinctively, and more creamy pearls of come mixed with slick made its way out of his hole, down his thighs. 

"I'll be back," N'Jadaka said, as he moved back to let M’Baku take his turn. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

T'Challa whined in displeasure as Erik pulled out and stepped away. His hole felt hot and empty, as if he were missing an essential part of himself. Humping the bench gave him no relief from the maddening itch of desire that was starting to build up again.

He started to open his mouth, on the verge of begging Erik to stay, but before he could say anything, he could feel the blunt head of a cock nudging at his well-used entrance.

_M’Baku._

Earlier on, he had seen the giant of a man next in line behind N'Jadaka. At that time, his mouth had watered at the thought of taking that big cock into himself. The reality of it was just as good as he had imagined. T'Challa's mouth fell open as M’Baku fucked into his sloppy, open hole, seemingly unbothered by the mess that N'Jadaka had left behind.

His cock was so large that T'Challa felt like he was being split in two as M’Baku pressed in, inch by agonizing inch. T'Challa opened for him easily, already loose and wet from his earlier fucking, the size and power of M’Baku's cock causing him to slick up again in response. Although his arms and legs were already starting to ache from being bent over in this position, the presence of a hard cock near him stoked the fire within him, making him hard again and panting for more.

M’Baku grunted above him as he finally bottomed out, balls flush against the cheeks of T'Challa's ass.

T'Challa let out an embarrassing little gasp as M’Baku began to thrust forcefully into him. He almost purred in delight at the feeling of M’Baku's cock pistoning in and out, dragging along his walls. He couldn't help but compare M’Baku to N'Jadaka - M’Baku's cock was longer and thicker, but his strokes were slower and more measured, and in the haze of heat, what T'Challa really wanted was to be fucked so hard and fast that he couldn't think straight.

"More," he whined, wriggling his ass to try to entice M’Baku into fucking him harder. M’Baku groaned from above him, and his next few thrusts stabbed so deep into T'Challa that he let out a yelp, trying to twist away from the intrusion. But of course his squirming was futile. M’Baku had a firm grip on his hips, holding T'Challa in place so that he had to take his cock.

"Look how well he's getting fucked!" Someone called out admiringly from the audience as T'Challa was jerked back onto M’Bakus cock again, and T'Challa still retained enough presence of mind to flush in shame. But he couldn't hold back his moans at the jolts of pleasure rushing through him as M’Baku fucked him just as hard as he liked, stretching him so wide that it was almost painful.

Finally, M’Baku grunted and stiffened as he spilled his seed into T'Challa's warm body. T'Challa let out a cry of pleasure at the feeling of hot come coating his insides again.

M’Baku patted T'Challa's ass as he pulled out, as one would slap a horse's flank after just having ridden it hard.

"A good ride," he announced out loud, to the cheers of the crowd.

T'Challa felt his face grow hot in embarrassment. Face flushed and breathing hard, he slumped forward against the bench, feeling completely wrung out. M’Baku and N'Jadaka had both been very vigorous, and his hole felt abused and sore, unaccustomed to the relentless use by multiple men in repeated succession.

He could tell he wasn't pregnant yet - the damned heat still wasn't over. But even though T'Challa's heat still hadn't abated, the desperate yearning within him was temporarily starting to simmer down, and there was a temporary lifting of the haze of heat that was clouding his mind. He was now extremely aware of how debauched he must look, skin wet with sweat and splattered with come, mouth open and panting for more. It couldn't even have been more than half an hour since the beginning of the Ceremony, but T'Challa already wanted it to be over.

He whimpered. As if in response, several of the attendants came up to him. A bowl of cool water was pressed up against his lips, and T'Challa lapped at it eagerly. Someone was wiping a damp cloth soaked in perfumed water over his skin, cleaning up the drying come on his ass and thighs. The feeling of the cool cloth against his heated skin made him whimper in pleasure again.

His cheeks were abruptly wrenched apart, making T'Challa yelp in surprise and discomfort. The rough, wet cloth was used to wipe around and in between his cleft, making T'Challa squirm at the friction despite the lack of penetration. His heat was starting to make itself felt again, and he was beginning to get impatient.

To T'Challa's relief, the cleanup didn't last long. After a final perfunctory wipe down, the attendants moved off, making way for the next man to step up to the platform.

T'Challa vaguely recognized him as a minor noble, not important enough for him to have had any personal interaction with the Crown Prince prior to this, but strong enough to fight his way to the third position in line. He was lean and muscular, cock already hard and jutting out before him.

The man gestured at the attendants, indicating that he wanted T'Challa to be turned over.

The chains around T'Challa's wrists were slackened to allow him to stand up, and T'Challa blinked fuzzily, head spinning, as he was helped up to face the crowd. The rush of blood to his limbs after being tied down for so long made his arms and legs tingle. He felt weak as a kitten, and he didn't resist as he was made to turn around and lay on his back.

The golden chains were tightened again, strapping T'Challa into position with his hands bound above his head, knees bent and his thighs spread. His cock, freed from where it had been trapped beneath his body earlier, ros stiffly up, hard and flushed, sticky with streaks of white come from his earlier orgasms.

T'Challa moaned as a warm hand closed around his cock, giving it several firm strokes. He blinked up into the handsome face of the man who was about to fuck him next, who was grinning at T'Challa's reaction. The man pulled him in for a rough, sloppy kiss, then lined his cock up with T'Challa's open hole. Like the others before him, he didn't bother with foreplay - it wasn't necessary for an omega in heat, and his scent also made them too impatient to hold back.

T'Challa's eyes widened as the broad head of the man's cock nudged against his hole, and then he was speared open with one swift thrust.

The relief was immediate and gratifying. T'Challa whimpered in helpless pleasure at the feeling of a hard cock filling him just where he needed it, fucking him hard enough that he was jolted forward with each thrust.

In this new position, each grind of the unknown man's body above him created delicious friction against his cock as it slid against the hard muscles of the man's abs. Lost in a haze of pleasure being fucked and bred, T'Challa felt his logic slipping away again, replaced with the feverish drive to be fucked full of sperm and cubs.

It was almost terrifying, feeling his own mind slip out of his control, but it felt so _good_ that T’Challa could only give himself over to the ecstasy of mindless lust. He canted his hips up and clenched down tight against the man’s cock in sync with his thrusts, encouraging him on further.

The man’s thrusts were getting less controlled now, more erratic as he neared his orgasm. Almost too soon for T’Challa’s liking, he was spending himself within him. T’Challa shuddered at the warm splash of hot come inside him and the answering gush of slick. His cock jerked, then spasmed as he came against his own belly.

He was rewarded with another hard kiss before the man pulled out with a wet squelch. As he withdrew, his cock tugged against the puffy rim of T'Challa's hole, drawing a stifled gasp out of him. Although T'Challa badly wanted to be fucked some more, his hole was nevertheless starting to get sore.

He hoped that he would be given a brief respite, but the next man was already stepping up, ready to take his turn.

And the next.

And the next.

On and on, with nothing more than a few minutes' pause in between each man, just barely enough time for T’Challa to catch his breath. They fucked him on his back, on his knees, sometimes two at once - one using his mouth, the other using his ass, and then switching with each other. On and on and on until tears of pain mingled with pleasure were burning in the corners of his eyes and spilling down his cheeks.

The breaks in between actually seemed to make things worse. After each man orgasmed, there was a brief period of time when clarity returned and T’Challa could feel exactly how used and sore he was all over his body, the stabbing pain in intimate places that had never been subjected to such rough handling. Even an omega’s body had limits.

But to his dismay, he still wasn’t pregnant yet.

The bite of panic was starting to make itself felt, seeping into his heat-addled mind. It had been hours since N'Jadaka had first fucked him, and he still hadn't been bred. The sun, which had been hanging low in the sky when the Ceremony had first begun, was now directly overhead, T'Challa's only indication of how much time had passed.

Was he really going to die like this? T'Challa wasn't sure how much of this he could take. He felt sore and chafed, bruised all over especially on his ass and thighs, which had been grabbed and squeezed numerous times by enthusiastic men. Some of the men had also spanked him hard enough for him to tear up, and he could feel the painful stinging each time he shifted. His voice was hoarse from begging, throat scraped raw by the cocks shoved into his mouth.

T'Challa whimpered at another hard thrust from the man above him. His arms were hanging loosely down now, limp as a child's doll as the man fucked into his exhausted body. The fiery lust he had felt at the beginning had finally burnt itself out some time in the last hour, such that T'Challa didn't even have the luxury of losing himself to his base instincts. He still ached to be fucked and bred, but more than that, he just wanted to rest and lick his wounds. He had no idea how the omegas before him had managed to hold on for hours, even days. Already he felt like he was dying. He wanted to die, wanted to put an end to this torturous cycle of lust and pain -

The man behind him grunted and gave a final hard thrust, his cock pumping more come into T'Challa's already ruined hole. T'Challa gritted his teeth and rode it out as the man exhaled, relaxing above him.

He hoped against hope that he was finally pregnant, but the attendants looked at each other, and one of them shook his head minutely, indicating that T'Challa's scent hadn't changed.

T'Challa could have cried. He _did_ cry - tears of desperation welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. Even as the man behind him withdrew, he knew that the relief would only be temporary, and he would soon have to go through the same torture all over again. He whimpered, a tear making his way down his cheek as the next man approached him -

It was N’Jadaka.

N'Jadaka, again. T'Challa inhaled sharply, his heart leaping at seeing his cousin. At least it wouldn't be with a stranger this time, someone whom he had absolutely no attraction to.

N'Jadaka ran his eyes over T'Challa's abused body, taking in the streaks of come splattered across his skin, the dark shiny bruises forming on the delicate skin of his hips. His eyes landed on T'Challa's kiss-swollen,

N'Jadaka reached out a hand to gently cup T'Challa's face, drawing him in for a surprisingly sweet kiss. He swiped the thumb of his thumb over T'Challa's cheek, brushing away the drops of sweat and tears.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" N'Jadaka breathed out, his lips inches away from T'Challa's own. There was a dark glint in his eyes.

T'Challa whimpered his assent. He felt sore all over, even as he spread his legs to welcome N'Jadaka into him, doing his best to present for N'Jadaka's cock although his leg were still firmly tied down.

T'Challa choked back a cry as the tip of N'Jadaka's cock nudged against his sore balls, seeking out his entrance. Despite his pain and fear, the worst part was how _good_ it still felt - how good his omega body was still making him feel.

"Hurts," T'Challa gasped, his eyes burning with tears. His clenched his hands, the sharp points of his nails digging into his own palms.

"Hang on, baby, it'll be over soon," N'Jadaka murmured, his lips brushing gently over T'Challa's own.

He began to thrust into T'Challa, much more slowly than the frantic pace of their initial coupling. But even the slow, gentle pace was enough to make T'Challa cry out helplessly with each stroke, tears of pain mingled with pleasure coursing down his cheeks. His cock lay limp and soft between them. By now, he had come too many times to remain hard, even for an omega.

N'Jadaka continued to fuck into T'Challa's sore body, leaning down to nuzzle against his cheek ever so often as T'Challa panted for breath. His arms bracketed the side of T’Challa’s face, shielding T’Challa’s face from the crowd. It was an unexpectedly tender gesture. Like this T’Challa could almost pretend that they were making love, instead of merely doing their duty to Wakanda.

 _No more, please, no more,_ T’Challa begged Bast, praying that N’Jadaka would succeed this time. He was sure that he would die if this went on further. Already he felt as if he was torn up inside, each stab of N'Jadaka's cock against his oversensitized prostate drawing fresh pain along with the excruciating pleasure.

He closed his eyes and tried to sink himself down into the edge of pleasure that N'Jadaka was somehow still managing to wring out of his exhausted body, helplessly clenching down against N'Jadaka's cock in response to each invading thrust.

"Yeah, keep it nice and tight just like that," N'Jadaka panted. His thrusts became rougher and less gentle as he neared his climax, and T'Challa could no longer stifle his whimpers at the overwhelming sensations of pain and pleasure rushing through his body.

N'Jadaka's fingers tightened almost painfully on T'Challa's hips as he finally came, spending his warm seed into T'Challa's sore body.

T'Challa could feel the difference almost immediately.

A rush of tingling pleasure spread throughout his abdomen and then his entire body, followed by blessed cool relied, a stark contrast to the heat and madness that had been burning within him for hours.

Even before the attendant's announcement, he knew at once that his ordeal was over. N'Jadaka had succeeded in breeding him.

He let out a choked gasp, feeling his chest tighten as his eyes blurred with tears again, this time tears of relief. As if from a great distance, he could hear the supervising attendant announcing to the crowd, "The Crown Prince is pregnant, mated to Prince N'Jadaka!"

Deafening cheers rang out as T'Challa was helped to his feet, leaning on N'Jadaka for support.

N'Jadaka, the father of his child.

His mate.


End file.
